Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?
by diamondforever
Summary: Quinn is the princess of Arendelle. Rachel, daughter of servants to the royal family, is her best friend. Drabbles and stories set in a Frozen Faberry universe. Neither Glee or Frozen are mine!
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first foray into writing in years. I've been playing with this idea in my mind for a bit and think it's feasible enough to give it a shot. Please let me know what you think - I'm super rusty!_

"Do you wanna build a snowman, Quinn? Come on, let's go and play!"

Rachel was going to be in trouble if her dads found out she was wandering the palace halls alone at night. But she had yet to be caught, and who was Rachel Berry if not always extraordinarily careful? Furthermore, Rachel Berry was exceptionally determined, and it had been three days since they had had any fun. Sometimes, it took significant perseverance to convince her, but Rachel always managed to get Quinn to come along on her nighttime adventures.

"Rach, they're going to hear us!" The door was pulled back just far enough to reveal hazel eyes. "You know we're not allowed to run around after dark."

Rachel ignored the sharp gaze being directed at her. Taking a deep breath, she presented her argument. "Now Quinn, they haven't caught us yet, and they won't tonight. And-and we've had so much fun! Don't you want to see how big we can make Olaf? We can be quiet, and careful, and nobody will get hurt. Promise!"

She knew she had Quinn before she even finished. The steel in her eyes had softened and a small smile graced her lips. Sighing, Quinn slipped out of her room and closed the door behind her. "Okay, Rachel." Grabbing Rachel's hand, a full-blown grin formed on her face. "Let's go build a snowman."

"Yes!" Rachel exclaimed before she could stop herself. She shrunk back slightly when Quinn shushed her, but the way she squeezed her hand gave away her mutual excitement. Quinn possessed natural poise and regality, and she was being bred for the throne in the place of her absent older sister, Frannie. Despite this, Rachel would never let her best friend's limited years of freedom pass her by for the sake of future responsibilities. During the day, both were busy with tasks and classes respectively, but once the castle was quiet the girls had free reign of the grounds (provided they weren't caught). Rules and regulations would come in time, but for now it was important that Quinn have the complete childhood experience of sneaking out after dark to go play in the snow.

Luckily, Rachel knew the palace halls like the back of her hand. It was one of the perks that came with being a fifth generation servant to the royal family of Arendelle. For example, she knew which hallways the patrol guards would be in at this time of night, and consequently the most deserted route to the grand ballroom. Which was a good thing, because anybody who was nearby would have heard the echoes of footsteps and giggles from the two girls as they neared their destination.

Quinn had always been a quiet and serious girl, but she possessed a kind and generous heart that was easily evident to those who knew her. Rachel was privy to her fears of inadequacy and her worry of not living up to the high expectations of her father, King Russell, or the kingdom she would one day rule. Her smiles had diminished in their frequency, and she carried herself as one with an ever-increasing weight upon her shoulders. What little Rachel could do she most assuredly would to get her friend to laugh. Everything always seemed right in the rare moments that Quinn laughed, and it warmed Rachel's heart to hear it. She loved her friend, and she would do anything to make her happy.

And Quinn's favourite thing in the world was snow. Peals of laughter would always accompany their winter adventures, with Quinn spinning her round and round in her arms as snowflakes fell around them. Her eyes were would shine bright with joy, breath coming out in icy puffs of condensation. She would whisper softly, "thank you, Rachel," into her ear before mischievously and unceremoniously tossing her into the snow.

And Rachel could say with certainty that **her **favourite thing in the world was Quinn, lying next to her, making snow angels.


	2. Chapter 2

"Quinn!" Rachel banged on the door. "Quinn, come on!" It had been weeks since she had seen her best friend. At first, she had believed that Quinn was ill - because she had felt tired and under the weather for quite some time as well - but now she was beginning to think that the blonde was simply ignoring her.

Her fathers had kept her in bed for several days while she suffered from a high fever. By the time she had returned to her daily tasks, the castle gates were closed for the first time in her life. The mood was vastly different in the halls, somber and quiet where there was usually the sound of birds and the busy bustle of the town square beyond the castle walls. Suddenly, her home had begun to feel like a prison in which she was the only child, as her only other companion refused to see her. Rachel could deal with boredom, but now she was growing increasingly concerned and frustrated at this forced solitude.

She had taken to sitting by Quinn's door every night, trying every combination of words and actions she could think of to get her to open up. For the last ten nights, there had been no answer. Her fathers had found her early this morning, curled up into a ball by the princess' room. It would be exceedingly difficult from now on for her to sneak off and see Quinn. She had waited patiently for her fathers to go to bed tonight so that she could make her way here.

"Quinn, please," she said brokenly, "please, tell me what's going on." Yes, she was angry at her friend's unexplained behaviour, but she was also very worried. "I don't know what happened. Was it something I did?"

She heard the floorboards creak on the other side of the door. "Quinn!" Rachel pressed herself against the door, willing it to open. "Quinn, I know you can hear me. Why are you doing this?"

Silence. She slammed her fist against the door again, sobbing in frustration. She felt so cold, so shut out and helpless.

"I don't want to hurt you, Rachel." Quinn sounded small and afraid. "You need to go."

"But **this** hurts, Quinn." She could feel herself trembling, equal parts excited and angry. "Quinn, just let me come in. We can talk, about whatever I did, or whatever is bothering you. Please, just...let me help."

"You-" Quinn stopped suddenly. When she spoke again, her voice was tight and controlled. "Rachel, you have to stop trying to help me. You can't help me. The best thing you can do is to stay away from me."

"I can't do that, and you know it." Rachel could never abandon her friend. She had been Quinn's closest confidante for as long as she could remember. "Please, Quinn. Don't ask me to do that."

There was silence from the other side of the door. Rachel knew how Quinn's mind worked. While she was completely willing to go with her gut, the princess often needed time alone to think through a situation. She was prepared to wait for as long as Quinn needed. She could match the strength of her friend's stubborn will.

"I'm right here, Quinn," Rachel said gently. She sat down and prepared herself for another cold and uncomfortable night as she leaned back against the door. "And I'll be here waiting until you're ready."

The door swung inward suddenly, revealing the blonde. Rachel gasped at the sight. Quinn looked pale and exhausted, as if she hadn't slept for days. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked down at the servant girl on the floor. On instinct, Rachel was already scrambling to her feet in order to throw her arms around her friend. She felt a chill strike her heart as Quinn pushed her forcefully back down to the floor.

"Wha–" Rachel's temper spiked hot at the indignation. Angry words were at the tip of her tongue, only stopped by the deep guilt evident on Quinn's face. A gloved hand was raised outstretched by her side, as though she couldn't decide whether to run away or to Rachel's side. But Quinn had always had the utmost control of her emotions. In seconds, her face was rigidly composed.

"I wasn't asking, Rachel." The words and tone were biting and cruel. Only Quinn's eyes exposed her inner turmoil. There was a desperation about her, as if she was trying to commit to memory the sight before her. "Go-," her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, "-away." The door slammed shut behind her.

Rachel didn't move from where she had landed. She felt numb, frozen by the pain of such utter and final rejection. She felt angry because Quinn had cut her out, and outraged that she would not explain why. But most of all, she felt empty and alone.

Her father, Leroy, shook her awake from where she had fallen asleep on the floor the next morning. "No more, Rachel." She knew he meant it, and that there would be serious consequences if she were found here again.

It wasn't like it mattered anyway. She told herself that she would never go to Quinn again, partly to respect the princess' wishes, but mostly because she was determined to not be the first to break. She still found herself constantly looking for Quinn, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blonde whenever she could, hoping to see how she was doing. But it seemed that Quinn had been serious about keeping her distance. The princess was never seen outside the confines of her own room.

The rest of the servants noticed Rachel's sudden downcast mood.

The stable hands tried to cheer her up by offering rides on the horses once she finished helping with the feeds. Rachel wished that Quinn were riding beside her.

The cook's wife tried to cheer her up by braiding her hair. Rachel couldn't push away the memory of tying Quinn's hair into pigtails.

The queen's maidservants tried to cheer her up by dressing her up in ball gowns that were no longer in use. It was then, as she stood in front of the mirror, that Rachel noticed the single grey lock of hair that hung just above her brow.


	3. Chapter 3

_Conceal, don't feel_. It might as well have been branded on her skin because she would never forget it.

At first, she had thought her powers a wonderful gift, had imagined conjuring ice castles and sculptures that would attract visitors to Arendelle from faraway lands. She had never thought of how dangerous she could be, how ice could hurt, could kill. How naive she had once been, believing that people would not be terrified of her once they knew her secret. Her father had confided in her the looming threat of the surrounding kingdoms, constantly on the lookout for the catalyst that would give them reason to invade and seize Arendelle as their own. He had reminded her of her royal duty to their nation's safety. She needed to hide, to keep others from finding out her secret.

All Quinn wanted to do was sob as she sat with her back against the door. Rachel wasn't on the other side, wouldn't ever be from now on. She had made sure of it that night. Even then, she had lost control of herself for just a moment, almost allowing herself to accept the love her friend had offered. Her longing must have been evident on her face because Rachel's anger had melted away in an instant. It wasn't how she had wanted it. She had wanted Rachel to yell, to push back, to hate Quinn for abandoning her so suddenly and finally. But she had underestimated the goodness of her friend's heart, and the generosity of forgiveness she so easily extended to everyone around her. Quinn had run, closing the door before her resolve gave way. She had heard Rachel crying quietly through the night, every gasp driving like a knife deep into her heart.

She would be like the ice that ran through her veins. She would be cold, withdrawn and unwelcoming in order to keep others away. She would be rigid, with a heart of stone that could not be penetrated by the danger of emotions. She would be still, meditating in the silence of her forced solitude.

This is what it meant to be truly alone. How could she risk feeling emotion? How could she fathom experiencing joy and happiness without hurting the ones she held closest to her heart? Quinn was alone with this cursed magic inside of her, just waiting to burst out of her if she ever let her guard down. Even now, she could feel it bubbling beneath the surface, like a caged bird waiting for the opportunity to fly free and explore the possibilities of the world around her. It grew stronger every day. She was terrified of the day she would fail and give in to the urge.

Rachel, hanging cold as ice in her arms: that image was all it ever took to steel her resolve.

**A/N: **Thanks for all the love! I think I'm going to keep this mostly from Rachel's perspective, but I couldn't resist at least one from Quinn.


	4. Chapter 4

**So apparently, I suck at writing drabbles. Or writing regularly. Whoops. **

For seven years, Rachel had kept herself from standing in front of Quinn's doors. It was actually quite easy because, with the castle gates closed, the majority of the servants moved to the homes of other nobility within the kingdom. Rachel's fathers stayed to wait on the king and queen, leaving Rachel and the few others retained to maintain the upkeep of the sizeable estate. She spent her days scrubbing the floors, dusting the curtains, and shining the silver. It was dreadfully monotonous work, but kept her hands, if not her mind, occupied.

She thought often of Quinn. Rachel could vividly remember the thinly veiled fear in the princess' eyes that night. Her anger had long given way to the frustration of the mystery — what could frighten Quinn so much that she would willingly lock herself away from the world? The doors to her chambers remained closed. Plates of food were left before them three times daily by Brittany, the cook's daughter, to be collected empty at the next meal.

Although Rachel missed her friend terribly, she was much more concerned for her well-being. She could not fathom living in such isolation. She would personally go crazy, and that was not a look she wished to see on her oft composed companion. A disturbing picture came to mind: a spinster Quinn's once beautiful blond hair, frazzled and unkempt from years of needing to impress no one but herself. Rachel shuddered the image away. She instead imagined princess Quinn, all perfect features and hollow lifeless eyes; the picture of beauty, but alone and locked away by her own volition, her years of youth wasted for some deep-seated secret. The thought of it made her livid.

She wasn't angry at Quinn. Mostly, she was upset at the helplessness of the situation. If called upon, Rachel would no doubt run to her aid. But she had been firmly rejected. As much as she wished to defy the princess, she also knew well the strength of her will. Once Quinn's mind was set, there would be no changing it. So she had stayed away, fighting daily against her own conscience and desire to be the support she knew her friend needed. She had struggled with the guilt of letting Quinn go through this alone, knowing that her place was by her side. She had listened to her, respected her, and left her alone.

But tonight, tonight she needed to be here, even if the dark and echoing halls of this empty castle were absolutely frigid. Regardless of the consequences, or the pain of another rejection, Rachel needed to see Quinn. The guards would have to drag her away and throw her in the never-used dungeons if it came down to it. She often went back and forth on whether she was being a good friend by keeping her distance, but for once this was clear to her. Quinn needed her to be here for her tonight, whether she realized it or not.

Because today, they had buried Quinn's parents in the hill overlooking the lake. It had been a simple envoy to the neighbouring kingdoms, a trip to promote goodwill and strengthen border relations. The royal ship had been overtaken by a vicious squall while at sea, taking the lives of everyone aboard. Rachel had been enjoying a quiet moment in the courtyard when the messenger rode up to the gates. He bore the royal crest of the island of Berk, and the expression of one with grave tidings. His words were for the princess' ears alone, he had explained.

Rachel had discretely trailed the man to Quinn's quarters. Peering from around the corner, she had heard him announce himself to the princess, waiting tensely for her to answer. After a moment, the door had swung inward. Rachel had gasped in spite of herself, shrinking back into the shadows as eyes turned in her direction to seek the source of the noise. The emissary had spoken quietly to the girl, who stood just inside the doorframe and out of view. She had strained to see, hoping to catch sight of Quinn.

She had instead heard her as an anguished cry sounded out, rending Rachel's heart into pieces at the depth of pain. Any resolve she had held onto was lost as she dashed around the corner, broken by the urgent need to see Quinn and make sure that she was okay, but the door had already been slammed shut in the man's face.

Arendelle had been cast into a heavy snow squall ever since. Icy winds blew slats of snow against the windows and bellowed a heaving howl all through the stone walls of the castle. It was a befitting outfit for the kingdom, its activities having come to a standstill as the people of Arendelle mourned the loss of their king and queen. The monarchs had been beloved by their people. The cliffs, covered with chilly morning fog, had been lined with throngs of mourners gathered from all corners of the kingdom to pay their respects.

Quinn had been a silent spectator. Rachel had watched her steadily throughout the morning while she stood with the rest of the staff. Gone was the shy quiet girl Rachel had known, replaced with hard angles and stern jaw. Still, she was severe in her beauty, curling tendrils of golden hair framing the parts of her face not concealed by her hood. Wrapped up in a black winter cloak, she had been completely unapproachable even as she stood in plain sight at the forefront of the crowd. Although present in body, she had been noticeably – in Rachel's eyes – absent in mind from the actual procession, with her gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of her and arms wrapped protectively around her body. At the first possible moment, she had disappeared, no doubt back to her private chambers.

It was how Rachel found herself here now. She couldn't know completely, but she could guess what was on the princess' mind. All too soon, she would be thrust into the role she had been groomed for all her life. Arendelle would be looking to the young and reclusive princess for leadership. Having barely been given the time mourn the loss of her family, she would have to trade this burden for an even heavier weight upon her shoulders - an entire kingdom.

And she wouldn't be able to do it alone. She would surely try to, but Rachel wasn't going to let her.

Still, Rachel found herself standing outside the door for longer than she thought she would as she worked up the courage to go through with her plan. Shivering, she pulled the thick coat she had put on closer around herself. She had rehearsed in her mind what she wanted to say, an array of arguments, bargains and pleas at the tip of her tongue, ready to fight her way into convincing Quinn to let her in. But now, she gave pause as she considered what she was getting herself into.

While she clung to the friendship she had once had with Quinn, the years apart had no doubt changed them both. Rachel was still verbose, assertive, and occasionally overbearing, but she was certainly no longer the naïve little servant girl that had run the castle halls at night with the kingdom's heir. Who was Quinn now? Was she still the shy but strongly opinionated princess from before, or was the mask of apathy and sobriety she wore today her true face? Rachel cared deeply for Quinn, but she was scared that she would no longer like the person she encountered tonight.

She exhaled slowly, squared her shoulders and curled her fingers into a fist. She held her hand at the door for several moments, meaning to knock firmly on the door, but instead found herself pressed up tightly against it, palm laid gently upon the smooth wood. "Quinn." Rachel spoke firmly. She had practiced this in her room, trying out different inflections and pitches in order to find the best combination. This was no time to be timid and fearful. She needed Quinn to know she wasn't going away tonight.

There was no answer. But Rachel knew she was there on the other side, quiet and unmoving, probably afraid to admit her presence. After all, where else could Quinn be? She would simply have to try harder.

"Quinn, please, I know you're in there." Rachel knew the confidence in her voice was already wavering. She cursed herself for being so emotional; it was the last thing she needed right now. She had to show her strength and steadiness, prove that she could be an anchor to Quinn in this difficult time, and she was already failing.

"The people, they need you. They're asking who will lead them now that your-," she paused, steadying her voice. "They're looking to you, Quinn. They need someone to lead them."

"Why me, Rachel?" Quinn's answer came in a trembling whisper. "Why does everything happen to me?" There was a shuddering breath. "What did I ever do to deserve any of this?"

"I know you're scared, Quinn, but you're not alone," Rachel whispered fervently. "All of us here, we're ready to stand behind you, to help you with the daily tasks of monarchy, and support your leadership. I'm here, to be your friend and your confidante, your maidservant, to be whoever you need me to be. You just need to let me in." She was crying again. Why did she always cry in front of Quinn? "Please…just let me in."

There was silence from the other side of the door. Rachel sighed. This seemed to be going in the exact same fashion it had before. She shouldn't have expected any different; the years had only served to widen the gap.

"I'm just so tired, Rachel." But it seemed that Quinn would continue to surprise her. "Can you back away from the door? I'm going to open it."

She was so shocked that she didn't actually step back until the door nearly hit her in the face. And then, Quinn was standing before her, hazel eyes widening as she regarded what Rachel supposed was a tear-streaked mess of a servant girl. Yet, in that moment, she didn't care. She was too busy taking in the sight of Quinn.

Circles darkened the underside of her eyes, tears brimming at the edges that were not allowed to fall. Her breath puffed out in front of her as she took even breaths. Her arms held the front opening of a thin nightgown tightly to herself, although she didn't appear to be shivering as Rachel was. She was thin; not unhealthily so, but rather as one who had lost all the softness of youth. But despite this, the parts of Quinn that Rachel remembered the most were essentially unchanged. Her eyes were still the windows to her emotions. Looking past the hard set of her face, Rachel knew that Quinn had missed her just as much as she had.

"I've missed you, Quinn." It was all the truth Rachel could muster in the moment.

Tired eyes regarded her carefully. Standing stock still, she waited patiently for a response (if there was going to be one). After another long pause, Quinn nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Me too."

Rachel allowed herself a small smile. She had been given her opening. "I'm going to hug you now." She stepped forward tentatively, remembering what had happened the last time they had been in this situation. "Okay?" It felt like she was approaching a wild animal. Rachel held her breath. She knew Quinn could startle at any moment.

"…okay." Quinn bit her lip. "But," she closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself, "carefully, alright?"

Rachel nodded before she closed the distance between their bodies. She slowly wrapped her arms around Quinn's shoulders, standing up on her tiptoes as she placed her chin on her clavicle. Instinctually, she turned her head towards Quinn, nuzzling her nose into the crook of her neck. She didn't dare to look up, afraid of how Quinn might react to this, but her response was simply to enclose Rachel within her own arms.

It was familiar and new all at the same time. They had once stood nose to nose, but now Quinn's breath puffed gently against her ear. The comfort of their past friendship washed over her, renewing her hope that their companionship could be salvaged from the passage of time. The Quinn she loved so dearly was still there.

"You're cold," Rachel remarked. She didn't remember that from before.

Quinn pulled back immediately. "I'm sorry," she muttered, taking several steps backwards. Rachel frowned. She couldn't understand why Quinn felt she needed to apologize, or why she now seemed so afraid.

"Is your gown adequate to keep you warm?" She wanted to say how illogical it was for anyone to wear so little on such a cold night, but she could see that Quinn was already closing herself off again. "Would you like my coat?"

"No, Rachel—" Any further protest was silenced as Rachel flung her cloak around Quinn's shoulders, refusing to flinch as the cold quickly seeped into her bones.

"There." Satisfied, she allowed the corner of her lips to quirk up in a smile. "Isn't that better?"

"Thank you." Rachel nearly screamed in frustration because Quinn looked so resigned. What small glimpse Rachel had seen of the former princess was gone, replaced once again by a wary girl with too much on her mind.

Emboldened by her desperation, she charged forward until her arms were once again around her friend. The blonde stiffened immediately (more so than before if that was even possible), but Rachel knew that at this particular moment, her determination was stronger than Quinn's fear. "I'm not leaving you again, Quinn," she whispered fervently. "You need someone you can trust, and I know that you can trust me with your life. Whatever secret you have is safe with me. If you're afraid of something, you can tell me. I'm going to take care of you, so you can focus on being the leader everybody needs you to be, okay?"

She lifted her head to look at Quinn. The princess stared steadily back at her, tears falling unapologetically down her face. Rachel reached up to brush them away, cupping her cheek gently. "Just, please, let me in."

Quinn sighed, averting her gaze. "I….I don't know if I can."

She laid her hand over Rachel's. Even without the words to accompany it, that felt like enough of a promise to her.


End file.
